in the same tone with which she would have asked a tradesman for his
bill. The fact that I knew, since I meant to fire in the air, that the
duel was a farce, made it still more difficult for me to speak.

But I managed to say that what she asked was impossible.

"I do not know," I stammered, "that I ought to talk about it to you at
all. But you don't understand that your brother did not only insult
me. He insulted my regiment, and my general. It was that I resented,
and that is why I am fighting."

"Then you refuse?" she said.

"I have no choice," I replied; "he has left me no choice."

She drew back, but still stood looking at me coldly. The dislike in
her eyes wounded me inexpressively.

Before she spoke I had longed only for the chance to assure her of my
regard, and had she appealed to me generously, in a manner suited to
one so noble-looking, I was in a state of mind to swim rivers and
climb mountains to serve her. I still would have fought the duel, but
sooner than harm her brother I would have put my hand in the fire.
Now, since she had spoken, I was filled only with pity and
disappointment. It seemed so wrong that one so finely bred and
wonderfully fair should feel so little consideration. No matter how
greatly she had been prejudiced against me she had no cause to ignore
my rights in the matter. To speak to me as though I had no honor of my
own, no worthy motive, to treat me like a common brawler who, because
his vanity was wounded, was trying to force an unoffending stranger to